Don't Panic
by Hetabee
Summary: Every day is madness for Roderich in his band (and orchestra!) class, but especially because of one certain German with the world's worst timing. Why does he never seem to catch a break? Just what is the important thing Gilbert forgot about today? Human!High School AU and some cursing. Dedicated to CorailJay of deviantART, if you see this I hope you like it!


**Was originally a collab with a friend I started in 2014, but now I finished it for Hetalia Day. I hope you enjoy it. P.S. I still hate my endings.**

* * *

It was 8:30 AM, Monday morning when the lone pounding of converses against linoleum floor began. This wasn't an unusual occurrence or anything since this was how a certain sophomore by the name of Gilbert Beilschmidt arrived to school every day. Late with his arrival and making excessive noise for a reason that many believed they knew why. Most figured it was to annoy the teachers already there, others said it was to escape the determined hall monitors that tried to give him a tardy slip, but his friends knew the real reason. It was to bug his snooty classmate, Roderich Edelstein.

And bug him it did.

There wasn't a day that went by where he was free from the idiot's irritating antics because though he was an idiot who never came to school on time, he was also an idiot with a perfect attendance record.

Ugh, how was he the stickler principal's grandson again?

Wincing in pain as a loud screech sounded from outside of the band (and orchestra) room's doors, framed violet eyes shot up to stare at what was essentially the only barrier between his utter madness and soothing symphonic sanity.

It was obvious to everyone who met him that he would join any music program in sight, school funded or otherwise. When the albino did, too, he knew it was because of an ulterior motive.

He could acknowledge the fact that Gilbert used to play the cello when he was younger, but that was only because it was demanded of him by his mother. Therefore, not his choice.

So, then why would he join the class by switching out to bass when they were short on players when he could have just as easily joined the art class like he said he would? It made no sense at all.

With the telltale slam of the door hitting the wall alerting the room of his presence, no one looked up to see who it was since they already knew. It was just that ingrained into their daily routines'. Not like the German cared, he didn't have time to shower his fellow classmates with his awesome anyway.

There was something he was forgetting, he could tell. What that was, he didn't know but it was right on the tip of his tongue. He could feel it. Oh well, he would figure it out later. It was first period which also meant it was his first class of the day to mess with Roddy's work. Smiling impishly at the prospect of ruffling the uptight boy's feathers, Gilbert dawdled over to the Austrian, dragging his feet along the floor as he went.

As more screeches of rubber on linoleum made their way to his ears, Roderich felt his eye twitch. Yes, in annoyance.

 _'Maybe if I ignore him, he'll get bored of me and bother somebody else,'_ he thought. Deciding that the idea was better than nothing, the brunette quickly turned away from him and continued painstakingly tuning his violin. They had a surprise test on randomly chosen songs and measures from their music books today and he was going to make sure that he was ready for whatever Mr. Vargas would throw at them.

He was playing instruments since he could toddle, moving on from the beginner's classes since before he joined elementary school and he had even helped out countless band directors' tutor their peers with a broken wrist, sprained ankles and laryngitis all at the same time during middle school. There was nothing he couldn't do with an instrument and this test would surely prove it to the insane teacher. He'd make sure of it.

"Roddy, hey. Roddy," Gilbert whispered in his ear, causing Roderich to emit a shrill yelp and toss the violin rosin in his hands against the wall as he jumped out of his seat. "What are we supposed to be doing again? I forgot." the albino continued in his normal voice, watching as the brunette scraped the sticky substance off of the wall while glaring daggers at him.

He should just accept that ignoring someone as infuriating as him was impossible, but he didn't want to give up that easily, so instead of answering him he yanked on the stubborn rosin cake until it was back in his hands and walked to his seat to finish up the wax job.

 _'Just ignore him and he'll go away. Just ignore him,'_ he kept telling himself, so much so that he was getting sick of it. However, it was useless when the other pulled up a chair to sit next to him and poke him repeatedly.

"Roddy, I know you can hear me. You can't ignore the Awesomeness that is me for long. I got the money I promised to pay you back from last week," Roderich immediately turned upon hearing the last statement, effectively ending that futile idea of his in an instant. "See? I knew you couldn't resist. I'm so awesome!" he exclaimed, pointing to himself proudly as if to make the point more obvious. The bespectacled boy rolled his eyes.

"No, I just want what you owe me. Now pay up," he tried to act indifferently about the exchange, laying his palm out flat to collect his money. Gilbert simply smacked it in response. "What was that for?" Roderich asked, rubbing at the now-red appendage. The German laughed animatedly.

"You really think I'm going to give it to you without a price? Tell me what we're doing in here and maybe I'll think about giving it to you. Sounds fair, ja?" perfectly trimmed eyebrows furrowed together, Roderich sighed as the bane of his existence went into the supply closet to retrieve his bass.

 _'It's simple enough. Inform him about the test and you get your money. That's not so bad, right?'_

He wasn't given any time to think about this as the near-platinum blonde returned with his instrument, placing it across his seat as he said, "My baby's too sharp, gonna have to tune her. You mind waiting a sec?" When Roderich shook his head in the negative, the two got to work on their respective strings, lathering rosin on what needed it and undoing their bows before redoing them again.

Finishing first as he always does, Roderich looked on at his fellow classmate, still checking the strings on his wooden beauty of an instrument. Quietly inspecting any problem with his sharp eyes and then meticulously fixing it with the kind of care you would normally see from a mother with her children. It was a stark contrast to his usually careless ways and though it was for the briefest of periods, the Austrian couldn't help but sneak a glance at the small smile that would overtake Gilbert's face, smiling a bit at the sight himself. It was such a shame how fast things went by sometimes...

"Hey," there was a poke on his cheek. "I'm ready now," then a poke on his mole. "Tell me!" And with a final poke on the tip of his nose, Roderich pushed the German's hands out of his face with a scowl.

 _'Well, so much for that bit of fantasy...'_ he thought tiredly.

"We're just preparing for a test today. That's all." Gilbert smirked with his ever-present arrogance in tow.

"I knew there was a reason I thought of skipping class today... Wait, what is the test on exactly?" Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather what miniscule particle of patience he had left to address this guy. The idiot didn't even know to study for today's test? How was he passing any of his classes? His brother was probably doing his work for him.

"Whatever Mr. Vargas wants to throw at us, basically. He plans to go through the entire music book and not use any song twice. At least, that's what he told us yesterday," Gilbert froze at the casual comment, frowning at the ground as his mind was busy processing what the other had said. "What's wrong, big boy? Didn't you study last night?" Roderich asked smugly, already quite sure of the answer.

"The entire music book," Gilbert repeated softly, russet eyes going wide when the bespectacled boy nodded in the affirmative. "Heilige Scheiße! We're all going to fail this crap! Don't you remember how badly we screwed up the Hungarian Dance music last time because none of us studied it?! I bet none of you did this time either!" The declaration made the once silent (save for them) room go into frenzied chaos as his words rang true. None of them had studied last night.

Well, none of them but Roderich.

"I didn't know we had a test! I was too busy getting Lilli's number to worry about a test..." said Francis on French horn, quickly ducking the cymbal Vash threw at him before walking into Ivan who added happily:

"Da. And I was too busy making holes in the ceiling of somebody's house to think about making holes in the ceiling of this room." The trombone player then proceeded to take his scarf and wrap the struggling Frenchman in it, laughing as he led him out into the hall, not like the others were paying much attention as they were all too wound up to stop now.

"H-how are we supposed to know what to practice if Mr. Vargas didn't tell us?" asked Toris from the trembling trumpet-playing trio, Eduard was covering his face in embarrassment of his own stupidity while Raivis pulled at his own hair.

"I don't know... Ah, I knew there was something I had to do after dinner!" answered Bella, the snare drum soloist, fiercely kicking a tuba case. The pain not having registered quite yet.

"Oh my God, we're going to, like, totally get it from Raging Rome now!" shouted Feliks, chewing on the reed of his oboe nervously.

"I don't want to die!" cried Feliciano, first-chair flute player and the teacher's grandson. At this one sentence, everyone became more panicked and several fights broke out.

Mei, first-chair clarinet blamed Michelle, second-chair flute, for distracting her with the temptation of the mall. Michelle called her a liar and Mei pulled hard on one of her ponytails, so that was one fight. The pain finally registered in Bella's foot and she hopped around, blaming Arthur, the tuba player, for leaving it out like that. He wasn't having any of that and was explaining to her that you deserve pain for kicking something, especially when it's not yours. Her older brother and bassoon player, Lars, chimed in that being a pompous ass meant he deserved pain, as well. Then there were the cellos mixing with the bassists and the noise just multiplied. Roderich couldn't stand it anymore.

"QUIET!" He bellowed above the rest of the voices, all heads turning to stare at the no longer composed Austrian in various states of anger or stress. Once he saw that no one else was talking, he began explaining, "Just because you didn't study doesn't mean that it's the end of the world. You still have time to get something memorized. Mr. Vargas isn't even here yet." His classmates scanned the room for their showy director, but found that Roderich was right. He wasn't there. The collective sigh of relief from the group helped to calm the high strung brunette down a tad, that is until the awful blare of a phone playing this repulsive nonsense one can only recall hearing on the pop charts was being blasted in his ear.

"He's right everyone, old man Vargs isn't here. So, let's listen to my favorite musician while we study!" Gilbert announced to them, greatly enjoying the flush of frustration coming out on the prissy boy's face. Looking at the irresponsible idiot who started this insanity in the first place, the bespectacled boy felt another angry twitch of his eye.

 _'What had that neanderthal said about musicians...? He said that... No... He didn't?'_

Oh, but he _did_.

"You... Y-y-you... YOU CALL THAT AUTOTUNED ASSAULT ON THE SENSES A MUSICIAN?! HOW DARE YOU!" Roderich raged, chasing a frightened Gilbert past the class that stood away from the scene, loud laughter erupting as he smacked the German with his own music book and ranted about the decaying quality of actual music and why what idiots like him believed was causing everything to become uncreative and lazy.

The chaos returned as this went on and eventually everyone stopped thinking about the test altogether. The class of mixed grades were so enraptured in their pointless squabbles and whining that they hadn't even noticed as the door opened once more, this time to a thoroughly annoyed Prinicpal Beilschmidt who had this to say:

"Silence, silencio-SHUT YOUR FLAPPING OVERSTUFFED PIEHOLES ALREADY!" Or rather, yell at the now deathly afraid students that were all rapidly cursing bright and colorful expletives under their breath.

All of them except Roderich, of course.

The former drill sergeant and all around terrifyingly towering German looked over the scene in front of him with something like distaste (that was actually more like resigned recognition about the fact that this group was a part of his student body), the intimidating aura of their fearsome warden of a principal sending unpleasant chills down their stiffly straight spines.

Hey, they just knew the drill when it came to this guy. One misstep and you were sent to detention, no questions asked.

As he was duly rewarded their complete and utter attention under punishment of laps around the school building and tennis courts, the esteemed Principal Beilschmidt cleared his throat momentarily before starting to explain as slowly and simplemindedly for the masses as possible.

"You are all very aware that this is the seventh time I have had to personally come in because you all are so..." The principal had to take a moment to halt his fiery tongue, reminding himself to _'Stay wholesome, Beilschmidt, stay wholesome...'_ a number of times until the thought stuck and he could continue, "...beyond help that no one near you can focus on their studies or think without hearing the thundering, unruly chorus that is the continuous cacophony of this class." Most bowed their heads in shame at the cold, hard truth he was telling, others looking away guiltily or muttering how they totally weren't the problem here.

Roderich was one of many bowing his head down slightly, though more out of indignation than any shame he could've held within himself at that moment. He had no reason to feel shameful when it was the albino's fault for all of this taking place with his foolhardy behavior and generally predictable idiocy. Speaking, or more like, detesting every fiber of his being, but yet still thinking about the albino... Where was he?

Gilbert had just been standing beside him, uncomfortably closer than need be, mind you. But he had still been there, at least.

 _'Oh God, tell me he isn't doing something stupid.'_

"Hola, mis amigos! I've got some news for you~" A very loud voice interrupted his thought process and annoying him at the same time.

The aroma of a bakery drenched in a swimming pool of brown sugar and vanilla perfumes with the faintest hint of bitter cologne wafted up his nose only seconds later, causing him to cover his mouth as he felt like he would cough up a lung. "Speak of the devil and he shall come..." He muttered, regaining his breath to glare at the Spanish embodiment of the Pillsbury Dough boy, tripping over himself to make everyone giggle like the little infantile primary schoolchildren with a shiny new toy they all truly were. Of course that wasn't why, it was just because he was _so_ funny.

About as funny as a heart attack.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo, in the simplest of descriptions, was an unmitigated, asinine - just an ass, in layman's terms - and how he ever passed the second grade remained a mystery to Roderich. His juvenile buddies Francis and Gilbert only encouraged him and the same in return, stretching every last nerve the Austrian had to its limit. He didn't participate in band or orchestra and yet Mr. Vargas entrusted him with errands around the school, basically being his right hand man when he required it. He seemed to gain the teacher's trust merely by existing, Roderich didn't understand. Maybe he was overthinking the small stuff again like usual.

That was another story for another time. No, no, now was the time to solve the mystery of Gilbert the disappearing idiot. Just how would he find him while the rest of the class was being ripped a collective new one? Before he could think to ponder, that very loud, very same Spanish voice pierced through the tense air of the classroom.

"Oh, hola, Señor Beilschmidt! What's up?" The principal gave him a blank look, the students sighing in relief because he had found a new target of interrogation.

"Why aren't you in cooking class, Antonio? Don't tell me another alarm was pulled." Antonio laughed cheerfully, smiling and oblivious to his senior's irritation. The Spaniard was one of those cases where he saw him so often, the formality was long since overused.

"No, no, señor. I'm here to tell everyone why Roma isn't here." Mr. Beilschmidt nodded tersely, wanting to know what excuse the other came up with this time.

"Alright. Go on." Antonio cleared his throat before explaining, "Well, I got a call from him earlier saying he couldn't make it because Lovino is sick with the flu, so he'd have to test you guys next Monday. I already made Lovi some soup to take to his house, but I wanted to get this huge get well card signed before I left. So, does anyone want to sign?" He was instantly bombarded by the rejoicing band students, all incredibly happy to be freed of their tremendous guilt and planning their weekends to cram, though more than likely procrastinate. The more curious asked questions about the Italian's condition, or whether he was really telling the truth or not, all the while the solitary screeching of rubber on linoleum squeaked dangerously in one pair of sensitive ears.

Roderich was standing away from the crowd of his unprepared peers, simply waiting for the bell to ring for the next class, he had another important test to take and get over today, thankfully. Sadly, fate had other plans as when the door slammed open once more on this fateful morning, the familiar upturn of a sinister smile appearing before him, there was nothing more he could do.

"Hey, Roddy. Ya miss me?" Gilbert teased, charging over to him with arms full of a paint bucket and the supplies he was sent to retrieve by Antonio so they could finish the card, skidding his worn sneakers against the floor a bit too hard and tripping in the process. Everything released from his grasp, the lone bucket of paint coming to spray all over the startled Austrian, everything turning still as the German slowly picked himself up off the floor to stare at what he inadvertently caused.

Maybe he really should have joined art class just so he could paint that and a number of many priceless looks Roderich's face could make. And his totally badass art skills were overflowing with absolute pure awesome! He grinned at his sound reasoning, almost saying something until a death glare from one very livid violinist shut him up as Roderich fumed.

"GILBERT, YOU INCOMPETENT JACKASS OF A NINCOMPOOP! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

With that, the two ran far from the now peaceful room, Gilbert running for his life and the chance to live another day. It wouldn't be long until Mr. Vargas came back to a situation quite similar to this first one, keeping back his students for a half-period stern talking to when they each failed their test come Monday morning.

Well, everyone but Roderich, of course.


End file.
